Fred and the Case of the EverGrowing Mistletoe
by NorthShadow
Summary: Fred needs to kiss the girl before George will finally get rid of that damn mistletoe...FredOC Sorry, I suck at writing summaries, but can you review after you've read?


**Title:-**Fred Weasley and the Annoying Case of the Ever-Growing Mistletoe

**Genre:-**Romance

**Rating:-**K+

**Characters/Pairing:-**Fred Weasley/Frankie Hath(OC)

**Current song:-**Merry Christmas by Shakin' Stevens

**Current mood:-**Puzzled and Christmassy (which is why I'm puzzled :P!)

Fred Weasley scowled as Professor McGonagall entered the Gryffindor common room, shooting daggers at the young students within. The deputy headmistress surveyed the mess of wrappers and Christmas paper, before sucking in a massive breath and bellowing at the ashen-faced youths in front of her that if they wanted to remain inside the school for the night then they'd get to bed that instant without any arguments. She shot the youths a don't-mess-with-me-because-I'm-deadly-serious-and-capable-of-serious-magic look and with a swish of her tartan dressing gown, swept out of the tower.

The grandfather clock in the corner of the common room stuck three, as the students gathered their rubbish and headed up to bed, hoping that the usual pile of presents would greet them later that morning.

Fred sighed and lifted himself of the couch in front of the fire. A third year girl who appeared to be seriously in love with him, giggled profusely and pointed to above his head. Fred looked up, then immediately sprang to one side: a large sprig of mistletoe had suddenly sprouted rapidly from the ceiling. The girl looked disappointed and walked forlornly back to her dormitory.

Thinking he was alone, Fred stretched and took off his pyjama top. A gasp behind him told him he wasn't as alone as he thought he was. Abruptly turning round he spotted a girl in his year. She was easily the prettiest girl in seventh year. Her black hair fell to her shoulders in loose waves, framing her face. A smatter of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose and her green eyes glittered in the firelight. Her small red-lipped mouth was arranged in a cheeky smile.

"What are you doing, stripping in the middle of the common room?" she asked mischievously. "McGonagall might come back in...,and get the wrong idea..." Her voice trailed off and she brushed a few loose strands of fringe from her face.

"For your information Frankie Hath, I am not _stripping_, merely...taking off layers as I am exceeding my normal bodily temperature." Fred scratched the back of his neck. He felt his stomach clench and a familiar growing sound coming from above him. Sure enough, he had to duck around the expanding sprig of mistletoe.

"It's getting hot in here...so take off all your clothes...!" sang Frankie, giggling as she watched the mistletoe re-grow above Fred's current position, only to have his jump out of the way again. "Y'know that's George's wonderful work?" she said, indicating the mistletoe, now attempting to wind itself into Fred's ginger locks.

"I should have known!" Fred seethed, dislodging the mistletoe from his head and walking towards the grinning teenager. "Wait 'till I get my hands on that little..." He clenched his fists.

"Yeah, well...that mistletoe isn't going anywhere until you get kissed." As soon as she had said that, Frankie's hands flew to her mouth, as if she wasn't allowed to divulge that information.

"Fine" said Fred, and he leaned forwards, pressing his lips to Frankie's. The mistletoe began to shrink away. "There we go!" Picking up his top, he proceeded to the boys stairs. Frankie grabbed his hand, but he struggled out of her grip and ascended the staircase.

As he lay in the dark dormitory, he hoped that the tingling sensation in his stomach would go away. Unknown to him, George was shaking with silent laughter as he struggled the urge to mock his brother. Still sniggering he turned over and shut his eyes.

Unknown to George, Fred was not lying in his four-poster. In fact, he couldn't fight the raging feelings bounding around his subconscious so he had gone back down to the common room.

The fire was dying in the grate, and the floor was still littered with debris of the Christmas celebrations earlier. Fred slumped down in the couch and passed his hands over his face. Frankie had gone to bed.

Above his head a rustling of leaves brought him back to his senses.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Fred gasped as the Ever-Growing mistletoe curled down from the ceiling. He shunted to one side.

"It seems to like you!" came a soft and mischievous voice from behind him. A hand trailed across his still bare shoulders and came to rest on his chest. Frankie had not gone to bed.

Fred shuddered as Frankie's mouth landed on the tender point on his collar bone. Her lips grazed up his neck and she climbed over the back of the sofa, coming to rest in Fred's lap. One hand finding it's way into her shoulder-length black hair, and the other around her waist, Fred pulled her into a deep kiss.

From the top of the boys staircase George watched the scene unfold. Flicking his wand, the mistletoe shrivelled and wilted, then finally disappeared. He got up and stretched, before stowing away his wand. Turning away towards the dormitory, he heard the portrait swing open. What made him run not walk was the sound of an angry Scottish voice exclaiming "Fred Weasley, what in God's name are you doing?!"...


End file.
